7
Since returning home, Lucas Ryan hadn’t left the house for ten days.
He spent his days in a drunken haze, aimlessly wandering the rooms where we had once lived together.
He drank every last bottle of alcohol from the cabinet. Once drunk, he’d sit on the floor, muttering to himself about things no one else could
1:06 PM
<
hear. Other times, he’d curl up with my old clothes, crying himself to sleep.
At one point, he even dug out the wedding ring he’d locked away in the back of his closet and started wearing it again.
During this time, Evelyn Snow and Mason called him incessantly. Perhaps he couldn’t stand the smashed his phone against the wall.
I wasn’t moved by this false display of grief.
constant
After all, what was the point of cherishing someone only after they were gone? It was too little, too late.
ringing, because eventually, he
ว
ว
Still, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I couldn’t leave his side. It was as if I were tethered to him, forced to remain in this hotfaraja–tappen
observer.
As dusk fell, Lucas wandered the house with the last bottle of wine in hand, his movements sluggish and unsteady.
Eventually, his eyes landed on our wedding photo.
as
a
That photo was taken during our third year of marriage. It was the only one we ever had, and even then, I had to beg Lucas E
to
tak
it with
In the picture, I was smiling brightly, my joy practically radiating off the image. Lucas, on the other hand, looked stiff and visibly unhappy, his expression a stark contrast to mine.
He raised the bottle to his lips and downed the rest of the wine in one go before tossing it carelessly aside.
With trembling fingers, he reached out and traced over my face in the photo. His icy demeanor was gone, replaced by an emotion I had seen before–something painfully raw and heartbreakingly tender.
“If I had known this would be our only photo together,” he murmured, his voice cracking, “I would’ve smiled.”
Tears began to stream down his face again, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Claire… I was wrong. I know I was wrong.”
“I never should’ve hurt you by bringing up divorce over and over. I never should’ve crushed your love like that.”
“But I didn’t know how to handle your feelings for me. You were so open, so warm, and I… I thought you must’ve had some ulterior motive for agreeing to marry me so easily.”
“So I pushed you away. I was cold because I didn’t trust you. Because I didn’t trust myself.”
“But how could someone sit by the fire and not feel its warmth? I… I loved you. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Was that… a confession?
But my heart didn’t flutter. There was no spark of joy, no overwhelming rush of emotion.
All I felt was a sense of bitter satisfaction.
The kind of satisfaction that comes from seeing someone finally realize what they’ve lost when it’s far too late to get it back.
“Lucas Ryan,” I muttered coldly, “you deserve this.”
He couldn’t hear me, of course. He just kept staring at the photo, his tears falling freely. He stood there so long that I thought he might never move again.
Then, finally, he took a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh.
“Claire,” he whispered, “I didn’t know losing you would hurt this much.”
“I was wrong… so wrong.”
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“I brought up divorce a hundred times because I wanted to test you, to see if you really loved me. I never thought you’d actually agree. And I never thought you’d die on the way to the courthouse…”
“You loved me so much. So why haven’t you visited me in my dreams? Why haven’t you come to see me?”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, unable to stop myself from snapping, “Test r
“Let me make this clear, Lucas. I hope I never see you again. Not in this life, not in
the
serious? What are you, a child?”
Ne and not in the one after that.”
The truth was, the love I once had for Lucas Ryan had been extinguished long ago.
–
Five years of coldness, indifference, and rejection had snuffed out every ounce of affection I’d ever felt for him.
Now, standing here and watching his tearful display, I felt nothing.
No anger. No sadness. No pity.
All I wanted was to move on.
Because I had never wanted this–this delayed, meaningless sorrow.
What was the point of love that only arrived when it was far too late?
